


Fork in the Road

by Grimalkin



Series: I got my DNA rewritten at SEP and all I got was decades of gay chicken and this blown up Watchpoint [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Snapshots, Soldier Enhancement Program, Soldier Enhancement Program Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9999959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkin/pseuds/Grimalkin
Summary: The Soldier Enhancement Program ran for two years. During that time, soldiers were broken down to their lowest, nights went restless, days became hopeless, doors were opened, friendships were forged, Morrison became Jack, and Reyes became Gabe.A collection of moments between Jack and Gabe during SEP.





	

**** SEP was… not quite what Jack had been expecting.

He had been expecting training mostly, of the advanced caliber, which there was… at first.

At the initial sight he had been taken to there was rigorous physical examination. He had watched a documentary on the Green Beret selection process once when he was a kid, and he could have sworn there were exercises lifted straight out of the documentary. It was grueling physical work, but he managed to pull through, if barely.

Then the injections started. A doctor whose hair looked like it had been slicked back with all the oil in the middle east explained that they were priming the genetic elasticity of their bodies, and not everyone was going to react well to it. He explained, like he was talking to a crowd of grade schoolers, that exercise would be taking a backseat to allowing their bodies to accept the injections, and to not push themselves. Jack rolled his eyes to himself.

Jack, luckily, was not one of the people who had been affected the worst. He felt sore all over and feverish, sometimes queasy, but it didn’t particularly advance beyond that. A kindly, pump nurse with threads of silver hair laced in with black, who looked somewhat out of sorts in a secret program like SEP, had assured him that his reaction were well within the positive parameters. 

Other people… not so much. Labored groaning and moaning quickly drowned out the hum of fluorescent lights as background music. In his first month alone, Jack was cycled through 4 different roommates, one broke out in hives and nearly suffocated right in front of him.

SEP had definitely gotten their money's worth out of the waivers they all had to sign, that’s for sure.

It had been a long few months. By the end of it the herd had been cut almost in half, all of the others having been sent home one way or another. It was no longer necessary for them to have roommates. Some of the barracks were actually empty.

Jack actually felt less in shape than when he got there, from a combination of the bulking meals they were being force-fed and the side effects making his usual exercise regime impossible. On more than one occasion he had nearly collapsed and been told to take it easy. One time he was actually banned from using the exercise equipment for a few days.

But, he had made it through the initial testing, and was quickly ushered into a bus with pitch black windows with the rest of the successful test group, off to who knows where.

When they had finally arrived at their destination, he realized fairly quickly that wherever he was, it was underground. He was brought in with about 300 other soldiers of various ages, backgrounds, rank and skill sets, and they were all told that their rank meant nothing in this complex.They were told that this is when the real experiments would begin.

The new location was quickly dubbed Hell.

To even consider comparing the side effects from the genetic primers to the actual mutagens required a special kind of ignorance. Everyone had a severe reaction, at least once. Jack, on his third week of agonizing muscle cramps and being unable to so much as hold down a fucking cracker, had a grand mal seizure. One minute, he was dragging his feet down a grey, boorish hall, and the next he was waking up with an IV drip in his arm.

This, apparently, was not ground for him being disqualified, though he did have to attend more frequent checkups and had a brief reprieve from the injections.

People were collapsing so frequently that it quickly became almost like a chore to report a collapse. People were just disappearing left and right and doctors absolutely refused to confirm their status to other subjects.

Not even the most optimistic rookie thought that all of them had simply washed out. As time went on, Jack became increasingly sure that most of them had died.

As for Jack, he was beginning to lose ground against the gnawing, sickly feeling in his stomach, that said the he was going to end up just like them someday. Or worse.

He wouldn’t let that get to him though. SEP was hell enough already. Someone needed to at least  _ try _ to be a positive force to try to combat all of the death, sickness and the dull, grey on grey hopelessly clinical atmosphere.

Jack had always been good at lying. Especially for a crowd. He could do it.

For whatever time he had left, he could do it.

 

\------

 

It was a good day, Jack thought. His muscles were sore, and his neck was stiff, but the sight of the plate full of cafeteria food didn’t make his stomach immediately turn. He had gotten at least four hours of continuous sleep, a luxury nowadays, and was feeling a little closer to a good mood rather than going through the motions of one. However, it seemed like he was the only one, as the mood in the mess that morning was especially gloomy.

He prodded at the thick porridge on his plate halfheartedly, glancing at the other soldiers at his table as they groggily dug in. How they managed to keep this stuff down without complaint was beyond him. He would kill for some food that didn’t look like it went ten rounds with a food processor and lost. Hell, eating an MRE was starting to sound actually appealing to him over more of the bland, inoffensive food that was  _ supposed _ to be easier to keep down.

Jack had spent enough nights with his head in a toilet bowl to call bulshit on that.

He heard someone sit down at the empty table next to him. Jack wasn’t sure if one could actually manage to stomp and sit down at the same time, but this guy seemed to be making an honest effort in trying. He glanced up.

He recognized the man. Reyes; didn’t know his first name. He was a sergeant of some sort. Only knew that on account of someone snapping at him than his sergeant rank didn’t matter here. Jack didn’t quite know the context or what earned the rebuke, but it had Reyes leaving in a huff with murder in his eyes.

Jack stared for a moment, taking in his appearance; the sag of his broad shoulders and the sour milk look on his face, halfway masked by a beard that looked like it was just shy of breaking regulation. He had his sweatshirt’s hood up despite the fact they were god knows how many feet underground. Jack cocked his head to the side.

From what he figured, Reyes didn’t seem to be the friendliest sort, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the man. For his looks if nothing else. But he quickly shoved those thoughts away into a shameful corner of his mind and jammed the lock shut. 

He turned back to his porridge to spoon at it halfheartedly. He wondered if he closed his eyes and believed enough, he might be able to trick himself into thinking he was eating something that was actually good, like his Ma’s fried eggs. Technically, he could grab some of the “scrambled eggs” they offered, but he wasn’t desperate enough to try to force down that Styrofoam flavored insult to a chicken’s reproductive system.

He heard the clatter of silverware on the floor, and looked back up at Reyes, who was staring at his hand, lost. Jack raised an eyebrow. Reyes looked down to the floor, and his face was overcome with defeat. Jack had to crane his neck slightly to catch a glimpse of the traitorous fork lying on the ground.

Reyes’ arm fell to his side, pushed his tray out of the way, and dropped his head down on the table with a belabored sigh, followed by a groan. He tugged his hood further down, like a turtle retreating into his shell.

Jack had to tighten his mouth shut to keep the small bubble of laughter down, a smile fighting to find a way on his face. God, he’d been there before. He glanced around. Other people had noticed Reyes’ dramatics, but all of them just turned away and went on with their breakfasts. He glanced down at his own unused fork and grasped it in his hand, standing.

Well, someone’s gotta do it. Jack walked up to Reyes’ hunched form, eliciting some more curious stares from other soldiers

“Hey,” Jack said, “Reyes, right?”

Reyes only turned his head slightly, an eye glaring up at him halfway between tired and pissed. Jack had to fight back a smile a little harder, as he placed his fork on the table next to him. Reyes head lifted up slightly, his nasty expression clearing into a bewildered look.

“Looks like you could use that more than I could.” Jack allowed a small grin to tug at the corner of his mouth, and gave him a quick nod before strolling back to his seat a little quicker than he came. He felt the prying eyes of his fellow soldiers fall off of him.

He tried to ignore the feeling that Reyes was still staring at him for the rest of breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> First of many. Updates will come... whenever.
> 
> Here's Jack and Gabe's first meeting (well kinda).
> 
> Apologija did the editing. Cause she's literally the best.


End file.
